This Night and All the Nights to Come
by monsterXmash
Summary: Jon Snow embarks on a forbidden romance with a wildling woman of the North. ::: Jon Snow/OFC ::: Also filed under "This Night and All Nights to Come" in the ASOIAF category.
1. Chapter 1

This Night and All the Nights to Come

Chapter 1

Jon Snow embarks on a forbidden romance with a wildling woman of the North. ::: Jon Snow/OFC

(I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire nor Game of Thrones)

_Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come._

o0oOo0oOo0o

"Ah, you are awake."

The man did not hear the voice as he stirred back into consciousness. Slowly, he regarded the alien world that he was trapped in. Everything was covered in a thick layer of pure white; this he was used to. But of his location, he knew not, only that the snow turned the wood around him into a ghostly place.

Despite the weather, he was warm, or at least warmer than he should have been. It was only then that he noticed a bulky white fur wrapped around his shoulders and chest. He burrowed himself deeper into the fur, gladly accepting the protection it gave him from the elements. He tried moving his legs, but could not. He felt as though a massive weight had been put on them and wondered if they have been rendered useless from frostbite. He tried moving them again, only this time the weight was lifted and his direwolf stood from them and sat close to his master's shoulder.

"He has not left your side."

The man looked into the face of a woman he did not notice before. She was level with him, crouched down in the cold snow. She seemed not to mind. In fact, she seemed to be part of it herself, drifting in and out of the man's vision as the fast falling snow concealed her pale form. Her skin was pure white, broken only by the soft pink of her lips and cheeks. Her silver hair blended almost fluidly with her flesh, and was thick, long, and locked in dozens of small strands. The only thing not obscured by the snow were her blue eyes - deep and heavy lidded, as if she was in a constant state of daydreaming - and too bright, they seemed, for the gloomy landscape around them.

The man's head was throbbing as he struggled to make out the words that the girl's lips were forming. She sighed in aggravation. "Do you not understand me, Keeper?"

He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. "Keeper?" he croaked.

"Then you do understand?"

The man shut his eyes tight before opening again. "Where am I?"

"You are in Sullenfaire, just north of the Great Barrier. You took quite a fall." She reached out to smooth away the hair from the cut on his forehead, but the man flinched away. She quickly retracted her hand, a flash of anger almost seen in her icy gaze.

"My name is Sairette. Who are you?"

"Jon Snow."

She laughed at the half frozen man. "Snow? The name is hardly fitting."

He scowled at the wildling, not in the mood for jests or games. The direwolf sensed his master's discomfort and began to growl low in its chest. The woman glared sharply at it and the wolf quickly backed down.

"You're a Keeper of the Barrier, are you not?" She gave him a thorough once over, and he felt exposed even though he was heavily covered by clothes and fur. She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes that seemed too severe for her face, but pleasing all the same. "You have the look."

He thought better than to explain that he was a Night's Watchman and not a "Keeper of the Barrier." He knew that to her, they were both one and the same. "Do you come across us often?"

She sat down on her knees, trying to get more comfortable. Her cerulean eyes widened. "I have never been this close," she admitted. Sairette went to reach out and touch him again, but caught herself and brought her hand back to her side.

"Where is everyone else?" The man asked her.

The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Gone. Or dead."

Jon didn't know how to respond so he pulled the fur tighter around himself. "Is this yours?"

She slowly nodded her head and he felt like she was expecting something in return. He cleared his throat and looked at Ghost as if he would ease the tension.

"I set up a tent for you not too far away."

He looked at her curiously. "I would rather be on my way back."

"Oh no, you can't leave now. Not while it is still light. They may be still roaming the woods."

Sairette stood up at her full height, and Jon took in her form. She was curvy, much more than the woman back home. Her white dress clung to her wide hips and held on tightly enough for the man to appreciate her long, flat torso. A fur was wrapped around her shoulders and breasts, to Jon's disappointment. She was noticeably built to withstand the cold and to surely warm any man who was lucky enough to be embracing her.

"Well, are you coming?"

He hadn't noticed a gloved hand being held out to him, pale fingers and long nails, sharp and akin to claws, exposed at the top of the woven adornment. Jon reached a hand up from under his fur and clasped on to hers. She helped him get on his feet, but he was unsteady at first, and fell into her as his vision blurred and spiraled. When he finally got his footing, he looked down at the girl. He was a head taller than her, and comparably wider, but for some reason he felt like he shrunk in her shadow.

Sairette pulled up her hood, the head of some large snow beast, and retrieved her spear that was leaning against a nearby tree. Without another word, she began walking away from the man. He was still where he stood and only stared after her retreating form, which was almost camouflaged by the white storm. When she realized that the man wasn't following her, she turned with a huff and drove the base of her spear through the permafrost.

"Jon Snow, are you coming or not?"


	2. Chapter 2

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 2

* * *

><p>The trek to the tent was a struggle for Jon. The snow was packed and deep and was now coming down in hard torrents. His direwolf, Ghost, was happily trotting beside him, jumping and catching flakes in his mouth. The woman, Sairette, was a few paces in front of him, almost gliding through the snow and turning around ever so often to make sure that Jon was still behind her. She wanted to laugh at his distress but thought better of it. Ghost bounded towards the girl and, to the direwolf's delight, she stopped to pat him on the head. She turned back to look at Jon again, but he did not notice.<p>

When they finally made it to the tent, the girl opened the flap and allowed Jon to enter. When he sat down, he was tired and out of breath. He could not yet appreciate the size of the shelter or the warmth that it surrounded him with. He removed his fur and placed it on the hide floor beside him. Sairette followed Jon in and sat in front of him while his direwolf chose to stand guard outside of the tent.

Jon was now able to look at the girl without the hindrance of the falling snow. She was indeed more pale than anyone he had ever seen before, but this ghost like quality only added to her allure. As she removed her hood, he noted that her locks were heavy with silver coins and ivory beads. She shook her head, like a glittering mane, ridding her hair of ice and snow. She also removed the fur that encompassed her shoulders and sat it down. Jon knew it would be a mistake to call the girl gentle, but her round face gave the impression that she had a softness to her hidden somewhere that needed only to be found.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked the girl as she made herself more comfortable.

"Should I not? You have caused me no harm."

"But your people attacked us -"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Why question luck when it is in your favor?"

The man sat still and quiet for a few moments. The girl did not mind, as she was rummaging through a bag, pulling out various odds and ends until she found what she was looking for. She removed a few things, including a few pieces of dried deer meet and handed them to the man and kept a few for herself. He happily accepted her offering and began eating.

"Will they not come looking for you?" Jon asked between bites.

"No. They will know that I am gone. But I am gone often." She smirked at him, a mischievous grin that seemed to not be a stranger to her lips. "Will your people not come looking for you?"

The man thought of his surroundings outside of the tent. "Would they even know where to look?"

"No. I suppose not."

She moved up very close to him, suddenly excited about something. With wide-eyed naivete, she sat on her knees and began to ask Jon her questions. "So, why do you guard the Barrier?"

"The Wall," he corrected her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "The Wall, then. Is it to keep us out or to keep you in?"

He looked at the dried meat in his hand. "At times I wonder that very thing."

She sat thoughtfully for a moment and, not being able to sit still for too long, started to clean and bandage Jon's forehead. The blood was no longer coming out of his cut, but was caked on his skin, so she carefully attended to it, as to open the wound again. The warmth that radiated off of the girl was comforting and it seemed to flow into Jon better than any medicine could. He smiled faintly at the way she cradled the back of his head in her hand as she worked and the way her steady breath softly left her parted lips, lightly blowing his hair.

After she was finished with his head, Sairette began to wrap Jon's left hand. He looked on as she gently bandaged the wound, careful as to not let her nails scrape against his skin. She looked at his face for a moment, but did not catch his eye. "You never answered my question," she reminded him. "Why do you guard the Wall?"

The tent began to darken and Jon realized that it must be late in the day. He looked at the girl thoughtfully. "People are afraid of what is on this side of it. They fear what is different. What is unknown."

By this time she was done wrapping his hand and she put her palm against Jon's bandaged one. He watched this action curiously, but allowed her to do it. Her hand was smaller than his and her glove made it so that their skin did not actually touch. But her sharp nails softly tickled his fingertips and he wondered how this girl could be such a contradiction of herself - a spear wielding she-wolf, both fierce and tender.

Sairette considered their hands against each other, and smiled at him. "But we're not so different."

Jon smiled back and entwined his fingers with hers. "No, we are not."

She looked down at the hide-covered floor and drop their hands. She decided to change the subject. "How is your head feeling?"

His smile widened when he realized that she was embarrassed at his kindness. Was this not the same girl who looked at him that very day like he was a piece of meat? "It is much better now. Thank you... for everything."

She placed a hand on his knee and he did not know whether to feel uncomfortable or not. Was this uncharacteristic of her or was it her coyness that was an act? "I did not do much. It was to my own benefit anyway. You are a pleasant distraction."

He put his hand on her own and ran it up her forearm and back down. And was this now a game that they were playing? "For any matter, I appreciate your kindness."

She laughed at him and took her hand off of his knee. "It is getting dark. I will take you home soon."


	3. Chapter 3

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 3

* * *

><p>"This is where I leave you," Sairette told her companion after the long and silent walk to the edge of the wood. The wind was howling ferociously, though the snow had stopped pouring down while they were still in the tent. Jon looked at her for a moment, the wildling woman so pale she seemed to glow under the moonlight. He then stared through the remainder of the dark trees and to the icy barrier that would soon separate him and the girl.<p>

"Is it safe for you to be alone so late?" he asked. "Who knows what night beasts roam these woods."

"You doubt I can take care of myself?" She smiled at him. "I do not wield a spear for show."

Jon doubted if anything could hurt the she-wolf, but still, he worried. "Take care of yourself, Sairette. I am glad to have met you."

"As I am glad to have met you, Jon Snow."

His eyes wandered down to his direwolf, who stared back, and then again to the girl. "Do you suppose we will ever see each other again?"

She shook her head softly and he heard the light jingle of silver coins in her hair. "Nay, you can not come back. Next time you may not be so lucky." She looked at the spear in her hand thoughtfully. "And I can never go south of the wall. That is treachery to my people."

They stared at each other in a long silence that was both clumsy and welcomed. He remembered the fur that she had wrapped around him hours before when he was still just a frozen Night's Watchman in the snow. He went to take it off, but she put her hands on his covered chest, as a sign to keep the cloak. He smiled and walked away.

Sairette looked after the man as he walked towards the Wall, still concealed from it by the cover of the trees. Should she have told him about the small passages hidden under the Wall that connected the South to the North? Or how to find her again if he ever needed to? But it was too late now, he was almost to the edge of the wood. Still...

"Jon!" he heard her voice call out, and almost before he could turn she was there, grabbing the fur and pulling him into a kiss. It was quick; before he could even respond it was over. He stared at her wide eyed and, if he didn't know better, he could have sworn he saw the brazen girl blush. He exhaled softly, a cloud of frozen breath leaving his body just as all the cold did with the touch of her lips. He laughed gently, not sure what else to do, and unconsciously smoothed down the back of his hair.

"Why did you do that?"

"Think of it as a parting gift from a friend."

He sighed, it seemed, almost in frustration. "Now I have to come back."

The girl laughed at him, her hands still on his fur covered chest. "If you are truly sincere, and would take the risk... I could show you the way."

Jon nodded his head and the girl grabbed his gloved hand in hers, leading him away. She told him of the hidden routes beneath the Wall, ones she had never used herself but have seen many times out of curiousity. Jon was doubtful of these passages. They would have been blocked if they were really there.

"My people built the tunnels years ago, but they were never used," she explained. "Like I said, going south of the wall is treachery, so they decided against it. But they are there. Hidden under the snow are doors that lead to the other side." Sairette's voice was filled with so much excitement that Jon almost believed what she was saying. After a short trek, they arrived at a very large tree, black-barked and barren, with a gnarled and twisted trunk. The girl dug her hands in the snow at the base of the tree, feeling for something that Jon was certain was not there. Not too long after, she turned her head and smiled at the boy. She stood, hands still in the snow, and tried to hoist something up. She tugged and tugged but it wouldn't budge so Jon put his hands next to hers and grabbed a freezing metal handle. He looked at the wildling woman in awe and pulled, swinging a door open.

"I know not where this leads you," she said, her face pink in exertion and anticipation, "only that it will take you home. But be mindful of where you come out from. You must remain unseen."

The man stared down into the dark cavern. "It would rouse suspicion if I show up without passing through the gates."

"Go through and see where it takes you. But pay attention, because the door will be hidden. Come back and I will take you to the wall."

"I would not have you wait here for me. I know not how long it will take."

"Jon Snow! -"

"I know my way back to the Wall." He smiled at the girl and placed his hands on her shoulders, bending down so he was eye level with her. "I will see you tomorrow, I promise. Under the cloak of night, Sairette, my friend."

She nodded her head.

"Where shall I meet you?" he asked.

"Up there." Sairette pointed to the branches of the tree and high up, covered in so much snow that it would be hidden to people who did not already know it was there, was a small shelter. "I will be waiting."

The boy removed his hands from her shoulders and broke off two branches from the tree, skillfully making a torch. He looked at the girl one more time and then descended down the stairs, Ghost close behind. When he was out of Sairette's sight, she closed the door and looked down at the spot where she knew it was. Snow stuck to the door, so it remained hidden from view, as if it was never there at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 4

* * *

><p>The gate was open for Jon Snow by the time he arrived at the Wall. Samwell was on watch that night and Jon was glad of it. He knew he need not explain to his friend what happened if he did not want to and Sam would not push the subject too much. But he was worried, as all friends would be, and greeted Jon with open arms. "I thought you were dead!" Sam told his friend.<p>

Jon shook his head. He was tired and weary, but also exhilarated. He wanted to sleep and not wake until the next night, but he knew that was not possible. And he also knew that he should give his friend a little reassurance that he was alright. "The wildlings attacked and I was knocked out," Jon explained. "It took me this long to find my way back."

"Is that what happened to your head?" Sam asked.

Jon's hand flew up to his forehead, where he felt the forgotten gauze that covered his wound. "It was a good thing I had spare bandages," he lied.

"Wildlings... those animals," Sam muttered.

Jon's demeanor changed abruptly, but he caught himself before he gave an angry retort. Why was he about to defend the same people that killed his black brothers? Before he could think too hard on it, another man ran up to them and pulled Jon into an embrace. "JON! I knew you would not have deserted," the man said, "but we could not find your body."

Jon took a step back and gave the man a hard look. "Deserted?" he repeated in shock. "I took an oath, Fredor. One I do not intend to break."

o0oOo0oOo0o

"SAIRETTE! SAIRETTE, WAKE UP!"

The girl groaned while turning on her back, and saw the man who was yelling at her - shoulder length heather grey locks and blue eyes, the same shade as hers - Lieto, her brother. She threw an arm over her face to cover her eyes.

"Did you not remember breakfast this morn?" her brother asked.

She sighed. "I choose to forget..."

The man grabbed the arm that was covering her face and pulled her up, making her sit on the bed. She jerked her wrist away from him and growled. The man was unaffected and leaned down closer to her. "You could be the one to marry Alpha's son, you ungrateful girl. Do not mess this up for me!"

She scoffed at him. "You would use your own sister to gain position? You will already be the Vilkas one day, have you no pride in that?"

"And you will be nothing, if not Lairen's wife!" The man rose back to his full height, straightening out his clothes. "You look like shit, Sairette. Get yourself ready."

Leito left the girl's room, leaving a tired Sairette sitting on her bed. Her brother would not run her life, she promised herself, not anymore. She rubbed her dry eyes then threw the fur from her body and stood up, stretching her aching muscles. She walked over to her mirror and sighed. She would have to put powder on, to cover the pink of her cheeks and lips, and a white paste on her eyelashes, which were too dark to be desirable. As Sairette did so, she thought back to last night and to Jon. She did not know why her thoughts lingered so much on the boy when she already had important matters that she had to deal with presently. Like her brother waiting on her, and her father.

Her father was the Vilkas, the chief warrior, and he was already there when she arrived, sitting alongside her brother. Lieto gave her a warning look as she sat, cross-legged, on the pelt cushion next to the Alpha's son. She ignored her brother, but gave Lairen a courteous smile. It was not as if he wasn't handsome. He was, exceptionally so. And he would be the Alpha one day, but Sairette had no desire to be the Alpha woman. At least he was not much older than her. They had even grown up together, though they were never really friends. Their relationship had always been casual; a mannerly hello once in a while and polite conversation in their later years. They merely ignored each other when they were younger, as boys and girls often do.

"Diona is beautiful, no?" Sairette asked Lairen after spending half the meal in silence. Embarrassed, he tore his eyes away from the girl he had been staring at all morning. "But it is not just her beauty," she added.

"Sairette, I am not myself today. I apologize -" he began.

"Do not be sorry for what you feel." She smiled at Lairen. "Diona is a nice girl."

The man looked at her thoughtfully and sighed in relief. But he knew that though his heart was telling him one thing, it would soon be his obligation to do another. Duty over love. That was the warrior's way. Sairette saw the conflict in his face. "You forge your own path," she whispered. "You live your life the way you want and to Hell with those who seek to persecute you."

Lairen smiled at the girl, because he knew the nature of the she-wolf. She would not be tied down to anyone or anything and she would defend her conviction to the death. Just being in the presence of the girl somehow made him feel more free. Lairen knew that she spoke the words not only to comfort him, but herself as well.

"You will prove a better friend than wife," he said, placing a hand over hers. "One I will always cherish."

She sighed. "Those words shall be my legacy."


	5. Chapter 5

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 5

* * *

><p>Sairette whistled and called out to the direwolf who was lazily guarding the tree. He opened his eyes, striking red against the pure white around him, and stood up to greet the girl. There was no doubt that the wolf was a formidable sight, huge and spectral, but Sairette was not afraid. She was afraid of so little, at least that is what she would like people to believe, and even when she was, it never showed. Like the first time she climbed that very tree after her brother built the house. <em>It's too high for a little pup like you,<em> he called down to her, so many years ago. His words echoed in her ears each time she ascended the tree. This time was no different.

"What's on your face?" Jon asked before the girl could even sit down.

Sairette quickly rubbed the side of her face with her gloved arm as she sat. "I had to get pretty for someone today. It is nothing," she explained, embarrassed and still trying to wipe the powder off. Why did she keep it on? Did she really think it would impress him? Jon gently grabbed hold of the hand to stop her from rubbing her skin raw.

"This is better," he said after the powder was almost all off. "Much better. Who were you trying to get pretty for anyway?"

"It is nothing." she repeated.

"Go on, tell me," he urged.

The girl huffed. "So much for a proper greeting, Jon Snow. Hello. How are you doing this blessed night?"

"Fine, fine," Jon said hurriedly. "So are you going to tell me or not?"

Sairette played with a coin hanging from the end of one of her locks. "I had a meal with the Alpha's son today."

"Who is the Alpha?" Jon asked.

"He is - our chief, or king," the girl tried to explain.

"And his son would be like a prince?"

"Aye, a prince," she agreed.

"And?"

"And... my brother wants to see us wed."

"Oh, that sounds nice."

"Nice?" the girl sighed. "It is terrible!" Jon smiled at her exaggerated expression. "I do not want to marry him! And luckily he does not want me either. That is my only saving grace."

"Why would he not want you?" Sairette smirked at the boy, but he looked down at his hands, suddenly finding them very interesting.

"Well, I would make a terrible wife. And there are prettier girls. Ones who will obey and serve. And I am -" she took a deep breath, remembering her brother's words, "impulsive and disobedient."

Jon considered her for a moment. "You are absolutely right, you would make a terrible wife," he said, still smiling, trying to make light of the subject.

Sairette pursed her lips, trying not to smile along with him. "I would make a better wife than any you could get, Jon Snow!"

Jon laugh quickly tapered off and he cleared his throat. "I will never take a wife. I took an oath when I joined the Night's Watch. Take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. "

Sairette did not understand this. Without daughters, how could you continue the bloodline? Without sons, how could you protect a village? But Jon said it before, they were different, and their worlds were unknown to the other. She gave him a soft smile. "No wonder you are such a sad snowflake."

"A sad snowflake, eh? I have been called worse," the boy said as he looked down. He did that a lot, she noticed. It was such a difference from the other men she knew - her father and her brother and the Alpha. Sairette's demeanor turned suddenly serious. She moved to sit next to the boy, so close that their thighs touched, and he looked up at her curiously.

"Can I kiss you, Jon?"

The boy's eyes widened at the sudden question, but she did not notice. She was focused on his lips, ever-parted and waiting. When he didn't say a word in either agreeance or protest, she looked back up to his eyes. She cupped his cheek in one of her hands, the sharps of her nails barely touching his flesh, as she whispered his name again. "Jon?"

The boy gently took her hand off his face. "It is a tempting request, Sairette. Too tempting."

"Would it be so wrong? Are my lips such a sin?"

Still holding on to her hand, he told her that they were. The air around them suddenly felt colder. Outside, a wolf cried a long and low howl. Sairette moved her hand from the boy's grasp and stood.

"Are you angry with me?" Jon asked.

"No," she lied as she stood above the boy, arms crossed and pouting, but looking at everything other than him.

"You are acting like a child," he said sternly.

"A child?" She pointed one of her fingers at him. "My father may call me a child. My brother may even call me a child. But you, Jon Snow, you know nothing of who I am and I am not a child!"

Jon wanted to laugh at her outburst, but he thought better than to anger her more. Sairette turned and started out the door to leave and Jon quickly got to his feet to stop her. But he stood too fast, and he hit his head on the roof of the house. The impact caused the whole shelter to shake and he stumbled back, still hurt from the day before. Jon did not even realize that he had closed his eyes, but when he opened them, Sairette was in front of him, once again holding his face in her hands.

"Jon, Jon are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he reassured her as he gently shook his head. The girl chuckled, softly at first, but it soon turned into a loud and hearty laugh. She threw her head back, thoroughly enjoying herself, and even through his pain Jon longed to laugh with her.

"It's not funny!" he said as he placed a hand on his old wound.

"Learn to laugh, Jon." The girl put her hands on his shoulders and gently shook him. "Learn to live!" Jon merely looked at the girl. She bit her lip as she smiled. Her eyes pierced into his, sharp and fierce, making him believe that she could be nothing else but a wolf in a woman's body. "I'll show you how to live, Jon Snow. This is _my_ vow. I will show you how to live."


	6. Chapter 6

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 6

* * *

><p>Sairette's fingers dug into the thick fur covering his shoulders as she clung to the boy. Jon's breath came out as harsh white wisps into the frozen air and she could feel his chest rising and falling underneath the layers of pelts and boiled leather. Her hands wandered up his neck, stubbled and rough, until they reached his mass of raven curls. Sairette brought her face close to his, close enough so that the pair's parted lips almost touched. She stared in his dark grey eyes, daring him to stop her. He didn't try.<p>

Sairette placed her lips against his, whether he wanted her to or not. His lips were rugged and wind-chapped, but the girl did not mind. They were the lips of a man. Warrior's lips. Jon's lips. There was no resistance on his part so she pressed on. Hers warmed his cold lips with something that he had never felt before and he knew why he had the sense to deny her when she asked.

"There is a wolf in you," Jon whispered after they parted. The girl smiled, hands still buried in the Watcher's hair. Far away, a wolf howled in agreeance. Sairette stilled herself, waiting to see if another would join. It soon did. She jerked herself away from the boy and quickly made her way to the door.

"Stay here!" she commanded urgently and she was quickly lost to the dark night.

Jon tried to follow her, but she was too quick. Climbing was Bran's strength, not his, and as much as he wanted to jump out of the tree after the girl, memories flooded him of the tragic fall when he was still at Winterfell. He climbed down the tree, as quick as he could, and when he made it to the ground, Ghost was running in circles, waiting for his master.

Without a second thought, Jon ran off, following the tracks that was already being covered by the falling snow. He heard at least a half a dozen howls as he ran, so he followed them. They began to sound less bestial and more - human.

Jon felt that his lungs would collapse on him as the chilled air filled them, but he did not stop. He heard shouts and screams and the clashing of metal on metal. There was a fire in the near distance, and Jon ran to it. The scene was gruesome; hot red blood blanketed the snow covered ground. Men rode upon huge animals that the boy had never seen before, armed with crude swords and spears and scythes. Ghost growled, eager to get into the fray, but Jon soon spotted Sairette. Instinctively, he pulled out his sword and charged towards her. The man she was fighting with had over powered her, but he soon had Jon's sword through his stomach. The wildling dropped to the ground and Sairette glared at the boy.

"I told you to stay there!" she yelled furiously.

"I saved your -" but before he could get the word out, a sword grazed his side from behind. If Ghost was not there, to attack the man and misdirect the blow, Jon would be as the man in the snow before him.

The boy grabbed his side and then pulled his hand back to look at it. His hand was covered in blood so thick that it could barely be considered red. He dropped to one knee and placed the hand over his wound again. He looked at Sairette, who was already knelt down in the snow beside him. She gently laid him down and pressed a piece of her torn dress against his side. The white fabric quickly stained red.

A spear suddenly appeared at Jon's neck and Sairette looked up at the attacker. She threw herself on top of the boy, a wolf protecting her pup, and stared at her brother in defiance. Ghost growled beside her.

"Sairette!" a deep voice bellowed.

Jon heard the girl's soft gasp and managed to lift his head just enough to see the man who the voice belonged to. He was tall, seven feet almost, and wide under his thin cloak. His head was clean shaven and his eyes were so black against his pale face that they seem to go on endlessly. His pale skin glowed viciously in the fire that surrounded them.

"Vilkas," Sairette acknowledged him and bowed her head slightly.

"Who is this man?"

"He... he is from the other side of the barrier," she explained, but there was an urgency in her voice. Jon was bleeding out fast.

Without hesitation, the Vilkas looked at the silver haired man holding the spear over Jon. "Kill him."

"Father!" she yelled. Lieto stopped and looked at the huge warrior, who in turn, stared back to the girl.

"He saved me," she said, a pleading quality in her voice that her father had never heard before. "He's bleeding. Please..."

"This is why you have been sneaking off," the man said, more of an accusation than a question. She looked down into the face of the wounded boy and nodded.

The Vilkas exhaled sharply and then looked at the Jon, contemplating. "Bring him." The other man looked down at the two but did not remove the weapon from Jon's throat. "Lieto!" he roared, "I said bring him."

Sairette cut her eyes up at her brother. "Help me get him up."

Lieto threw his spear on the ground and bent down, yanking Jon up and making him groan in pain. Sairette let out an angry cry, but the man ignored her. He whistled and a huge stag trotted to them. Except it wasn't a stag; it was too big and too black and instead of antlers, it had two long, curved horns protruding from its head.

The Vilkas easily placed Jon atop the animal and Sairette followed. She wrapped an arm around his middle, careful to keep the dripping cloth on his wound. He leaned back against the girl, too weak from bloodloss to sit up on his own. With her other hand, she stroked his neck and shoulders, trying to comfort him.


	7. Chapter 7

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 7

* * *

><p>Fredor hated Sam's questions.<p>

After what seemed like hours, he had finally gotten him to stop talking, shortly after they abandoned their horses. But now the silence around them was deafening. The wind did not even howl as it constantly did up on the Wall and the air around them was stiff and thick and cold. The crunch of packed snow underneath the boys' feet was the only solace they had from their grim thoughts. The wood was dense and though it was early in the day, the light from the sun barely shown through the barren branches.

"What is this?" Sam asked breathlessly. Fredor rolled his eyes while the two other boys looked at Sam as he studied the bottom of his shoe and then the ground. They did the same. Underneath the freshly fallen snow, a frozen layer of blood stained the permafrost where the boys stood. Fredor saw nothing but white in his step, so he shuffled through the snow. When he came across the sanguine ground, he let out a small gasp and took a step back.

He cleared his hoarse throat. "I'm sure it was just wildlings," he finally said to his companions. Fredor looked at Cliff and the eldest boy nodded his head softly.

"But... but Jon is gone," Sam told them, as if they did not already know. The four black brothers stared at each other. Sam's comment would have gone ignored if they did not know why they had gone out into the wood in the first place.

"It's just wildlings, Sam." But Pyp's voice wavered, unnerving him even more. "Random skirmishes."

"But Jon. Is. Gone." Sam repeated as though his comment went unheard the first time. Everything was still for a moment. The boy was too emotional, Fredor mused. His first thought when he found Jon missing again was to send a raven to Winterfell. _And who would receive it? _Fredor asked him that morn. _The cripple or the baby? No, we will look for him ourselves._

Cliff walked to a nearby tree and scraped a piece of charred bark off of it. The black cinders came off easily and he rubbed his fingers together to rid them of the ash.

"If he _were_ here and if he _were_ dead, we would have found his body," he explained. "Wildlings only take their own dead home."

Fredor patted Sam on the back. "See, there is nothing to be worried about. Jon can take care of himself."

Pyp nodded in agreeance but Sam sighed and shook his head. "Then why are we out here looking for him?"

Fredor really hated Sam's questions.

o0oOo0oOo0o

Sairette tried to stand up to her full height as she talked to her brother. He was tall, very tall, which was the one thing that he had inherited from their father. Still, he stared down at her, unimpressed and seemingly bored with her argument.

"I would have the fighting ended, Lieto! I would see peace between our people and his!"

"Peace, sister? Peace?" Lieto turned and took a few steps as if he couldn't stand still, then looked back to Sairette. "There will never be peace!" he growled and cut his hand through the air to emphasize his point.

"I saw how the men looked at him for guidance," Sairette said. "You were there. Through him we could do it! We could end this."

"Who said he would even want peace? He is not like us!"

"And all the better for it!" Sairette yelled. She immediately caught herself and then sighed, regretting what she just said. "Talk to father about it," she pleaded. "You have his ear. Please, brother. He thinks my words mere ramblings of a child."

"You are a child," he hissed. "A child with an agenda -"

"An agenda?" she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out his meaning.

"- I knew it. As soon as you threw yourself on him. As if you ever cringed from death," Lieto muttered. "And even if I did talk to him, what could the Vilkas do? He is a warrior. He has no head for politics."

"This is not about politics. This is about survival! We can not fight two wars! Mance and the plainsmen from the east, I see, but the Watchers - it is needless."

"Death is necessary, sister," Lieto said, then turned once more to leave. Before he could, Sairette gently grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked at her curiously.

"And one day you will be the one leading our men to their deaths," Sairette explained, grieved by this inevitable fact. Lieto should never be the Vilkas.

"I will do what is needed until I get what I want," Lieto told her. "If I do become the Vilkas before that, then so be it."

The girl let go of his arm and shook her head. "You shame this family."

"And you, being a dog's whore," he yelled, gesturing to the room opposite the wall from them. "That is not shameful?"

Without thinking, Sairette struck her brother as hard as she could, leaving a red print on his white skin and scratches along his cheek. Lieto put his hand to his face. The contact of his fingers against the wounds stung, but he wasn't bleeding. He worked to calm himself as Sairette shrunk back from his gaze. There was always a calm before the storm.

"They will come looking for him, Sairette." His hand closed around the girl's throat as he brought his face close to hers. "They will come here and we will see what peace they bring."


	8. Chapter 8

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 8

* * *

><p>"He means no harm! He drew his blade for us!" Sairette said, noticing too late that her tone was not correct for addressing the Alpha. She quickly humbled herself, but kept her eyes locked on his. "He can help us. There is a wolf in him, I know it."<p>

The Alpha sat silent on his weirwood throne, one white hand holding the glittering hilt of his sword, the sharp point of the steel against the stone floor. His other hand gripped the arm of the chair. His long, thin hair was tied at the base of his neck and spilled down his back, a rare black fur heavy over his shoulders. Though he was seated, he was higher than the other wildlings in the small room, his throne being built upon a raised platform. His son, Lairen, stood to his right, hands clasped behind his back, his brows furrowed in thought.

The midmorning sun lit up the room, the light bending in odd angles through the geometric designs in the windows. The new day seemed bright and hopeful, though Sairette did not share in the feeling. Jon laid bandaged and unconscious in the room beside her own while they decided whether he should live or die.

"He commands the dire!" Lieto blurted out, the thick silence overwhelming him. "Soon he will believe he can command us!"

"I hardly believe he would try," Sairette responded in disbelief at her brother's words. "He is a humble man. A brother of the Night's Watch," she explained, although she knew it would mean nothing to them.

"A dog," Lieto growled, not deigning to look at his sister. "Like all the others that should be put down."

"You will not raise a finger to him, Lieto Brokenwater!"

"Sairette!" her father said, his hard voice filling the room. One looked told her that she was not her father now, but the Vilkas, performing his duty to serve his Alpha and the People of the Crystalwood. "Leave the men to talk of such things. You are too emotionally invested."

If her brother had it his way, Jon would be dead before nightfall, slain while still comatose in their very own house. And his blood would be on her hands. She was his only hope and Sairette pleaded with her father to let her stay. "Who better than me to speak on his behalf?"

The room stood quiet again, the Vilkas unyielding in his decision for the girl to depart, though his eyes were soft and apologetic. She looked between him and her brother then turned to the Alpha. She bowed her head in the slightest manner then moved to leave before her tears could betray her.

"I will speak for this Jon Snow," Lairen spoke and took a step forward. "I will speak on his behalf."

o0oOo0oOo0o

Jon was running down the underground tunnel that connected Castle Black to the wood beyond the Wall. Whether he was coming or going, he could not say. There was no light and the pitch black air wrapped around him like a frozen cloak. He had to use his hands on the stone walls to guide his way. For once, Ghost was not at his side and he felt more lonesome than he ever had before. He walked further and further, legs dragging in exhaustion until he made out a small light. He hurried towards it, abandoning the walls and the weakness in his body, running as fast as his feet could carry him. The light shown bigger, brighter until he was upon it. The flaming torch that sat on the floor cast the room in a soft yellow glow and around him were the thrones and tombs of the Winter Kings of Old. Jon tentatively picked up the light and began walking again. He passed the ancient Lords of Winterfell, the likeness on their statues almost completely eroded away. He passed the statues of his grandfather Rickard and his aunt and uncle, all whom he never met and never would until the afterlife. He stopped at his father's sepulcher, and gently touched the new sword that laid fresh across his lap. Jon shut his eyes in a small prayer and journeyed on.

He walked silently through the marble pillars and out of the subterranean crypt. When he finally saw the sunlight he threw his torch back down into the tunnel and flung himself on the frozen grass. Jon clutched at the blades and looked around him. He was not on the Wall. Nor was he in the wood. Instead, he was in Winterfell, and though it was his home, it felt foreign to him.

"Robb!" he called out when he spotted his brother. "Robb!"

His brother, now Lord of Winterfell, only stared at him as he was jerked up from the ground and dragged over to the ironwood stump in the middle of the square. The grey and white banner of the Starks flapped overhead and, though they were right beside each other, he called out for his brother once more. Jon was made to kneel, his head forced down on the hard black wood.

"In the name of Joffrey of the House Baratheon," his brother began, "the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Robb of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die."

The elder Stark lifted the greatsword high above his head and all turned black.


	9. Chapter 9

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 9

* * *

><p>"Ah, you are awake."<p>

Jon faintly heard a familiar voice speak familiar words, but could not recall where he was. His head throbbed and, though he forced himself to try, he could barely open his eyes. When he did, everything around him was seemed to be blurred. He sat up on the bed and laid his forehead in his palm. Despite the cold, he was covered in a thin layer of slick sweat, so he pushed the thick pelt off of himself and to the foot of the bed.

"The wound is not deep," he heard the voice say, "but you lost a lost of blood." The boy turned his head and was finally able to focus on Sairette. Wildling shieldmadien she was, she-wolf she may have been, but at that moment she looked little more than a scared girl. "You are very foolish, Jon," she told him bitterly.

Jon ignored the wildling's scolding and shifted his weight on the bed to get more comfortable. The direwolf, Ghost, lightly nipped at the boy's fingers so he scratched the beast behind his ear. The walls around him were of a stone brickwork. The one window on the far wall allowed the light in, but obscured anything that was outside. "Where am I?" he asked.

"You are in my father's home," Sairette told him, voice still callous and cold. "He has an audience with the Alpha. He is pleading for your life as we speak." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Does that frighten you?"

"My father used to say 'Fear is for the winter,'" he told her softly.

"One thing you will learn, Jon Snow, is that it is always winter here."

The two sat in silence, neither of them knowing what else to say to the other. The boy absentmindedly pet the white wolf's shaggy fur while Sairette slowly paced the room. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. His hair was more disheveled than usual, his eyes more weary. "Those tunnels need to be destroyed," Jon finally said.

Sairette stopped abruptly, wide eyes aflame like blue fire. "What did you say?"

"I want every one of those tunnels destroyed," he repeated firmly, and louder than before.

"You dare make demands on me?" Sairette asked, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. "After everything I have done for you!"

The boy stood from the bed, slowly and awkward, holding his bandaged side. The wildling watched from the middle of the room as he walked towards her with unsteady steps. Jon tried to place a gentle hand on her cheek, but she moved her face away before he could. "It is for the best," he told her. She turned back to look at the boy. His dark curls fell in his face and she wanted to brush them away, to see sincerity unobstructed if for only a moment, but she would not allow herself to.

"Then do it yourself," she spat.

"Dear sister," a voice said from the threshold of the room. The couplet jumped apart, startled at the sudden intrusion. Lieto took a few steps closer to them, a small smile on his face. "Our guest is in no shape for hard labor," he said. "May I volunteer my services?"

"You may not," she snapped back. She wished her brother had not heard their conversation. Now he was aware that Jon knew about the tunnels.

"Let him Sairette," Jon said. "It must be done."

"Do you not trust me?" the girl whispered. Jon looked away, to the gray walls that seemed to be closing in on him, the to Lieto and nodded his head in appreciation.

"What of his life, Lieto?" Sairette asked, still looking at Jon. "What did the Alpha say?"

"He lives, for now," he said. "Lairen made a very moving argument regarding your character and judgement. Do try not to make him the fool."

o0oOo0oOo0o

"Where are we going?" Jon asked the girl as she handed him clothes.

"The godswood," Sairette told him. The boy stayed seated on the bed, and tried to pull thick shift over his head, but winced as he raised his arm. His wound still pained him, and he was weak. Just minutes before, he turned away the food that Sairette brought him, claiming he was not yet hungry.

The wildling took the shift from Jon and helped him put it on, more rough than was necessary, but the boy did not mind. Despite the tension in the room, he liked when she touched him. She picked up a jersey shirt and slid the boy's arms through, then fastened the clasps into place.

"You worship the old gods?" he asked her while she was dressing him. He felt foolish for not being able to clothe himself, but he dared not argue with her. Sairette slipped a pair of soft woven gloves on his cold hands.

"Don't we all?" she asked. She stood and fetched a pair of fur boots, then kneeled so she could put them on his feet. "You want us to be so different, Jon," she said frigidly, "but we are not."

"Sairette -"

The girl stood and left the room, leaving a bewildered Jon still sitting on the bed. When she returned, she had a fur cloak for him to wear. She bid him to stand, then placed the heavy garment over his shoulders and clasped it at his chest.

"Hopefully the Alpha does not wish to see you before we return," she said as he followed her down the stone lined hall and out of the house.

"Are you speaking of Mance?" the boy asked. Sairette opened the door, leading him out into the cold.

"That 'king' does not rule over us," she said and closed the door behind Jon. "Look at us, Snow. Do we look of savages?"

Under the shade of the trees, the snowy ground took on a lavender hue. A row of gray stone homes stood tall behind him, built ontop of each other with stairs leading to the upper stories. Wildlings walked before him, pale and graceful. Their skin was as white as winter. Their hair was all shades of silver and gray. Some stopped to stare boldly, other ignored the stranger completely.

"Half-children of the Others, as legend says. Mated with the lords and ladies of old," Sairette explained to the boy. "That is why our skin is as it is. That is why we are able to withstand the cold and take to the snow so well."

Jon could hardly take in what he was seeing. There in front of him was a village that existed beyond the Wall the no one knew about. He had never seen it in all his trips out into the wood and if anybody else did, they certainly did not talk about.

"Mance sends warriors from the plains to roots us out of the Crystalwood," she continued, "but they will not take it. They will never take our home away from us."


	10. Chapter 10

**This Night and All the Nights to Come**

Chapter 10

* * *

><p>The godswood was silent and serene, and Jon dared not speak lest he ruin the stillness of the hallowed thicket. The trees stood tall like statuesque sentinels, giving shelter and safety to the two disciples. They were ancient, and believed to be older than the realm itself, risen even before the Children of the Forest could see them as saplings.<p>

The white weirwood trunks were hidden beneath the fallen snow; the branches extended out far like pale arms waiting for an embrace. Hanging from them were red leaves, deep and dark, but next to the blanched spectrum of the rest of the wood, they seemed brighter than even the sun. Jon wondered how these trees could only grow in this one corner of the forest; why the sanguine plant had not spread and colored the rest of the region.

The heart tree stood in front them, a face staring back with old and weeping eyes. Were they carved by the first men, as the eyes of the heart tree back at Winterfell was? Even at home, he had never felt the desire to pray to the gods. Always, they have been cruel with their apathy towards him, the unwanted bastard boy given up to the Wall. He felt he owed them nothing, the same as they have given him.

And still... did he not choose to take his vows before these gods? The same gods that have chosen to turn the other cheek to him. At that moment, Jon had decided to best them. The gods were detached and indifferent, but he would openly hurl defiance to them. For now, he would abandon his oath. For once, he would do as he pleased.

The stillness and sanctity of the wood no longer mattered. He slid closer to the girl who sat curiously quiet beside him in serious contemplation. "What troubles do you bring forth to the gods?" Jon asked. His voice sounded like thunder in the silence.

"Sometimes they seem trivial when spoken outloud," Sairette replied. The wind blew and shook the boughs, prompting a few leaves fall to the ground around them.

"But they dance at the sound of your voice," he said.

She smiled at him and sighed. "Everything north of the Wall to the Barren Sea, between the mountains in the west and the eastern plains - that is Sullenfaire," she explained to him. "That is my world, Jon. And at the heart of it is Crystalwood. It is small, I know. Humble. And inconsequential maybe in regards to anything else but, at one time, it was all I knew."

Sairette stood and walked a half dozen paces to the heart tree and caressed its face, as if trying to wipe the bleeding tears away. She stayed like this for a moment, staring at it, before she turned once again to Jon. "Now I know there is more," she continued. "All is different and it has caught me unaware."

She walked back to the boy and stood before him, making him look up to see her. "Maybe it is you that has changed this wood," she said as she looked down at him. "Or maybe it is something else that is yet to come."

"Winter is coming," Jon replied instinctively. Sairette nodded her head, not quite knowing his meaning, but understanding all the same. She wanted to tell him again that was always winter there; that she knew this because nothing ever grew there anymore. Everything was the same as it always had been and always will be and the allegorical winter that Jon spoke had no significance in her world.

The girl reached down to smooth his unkempt hair, brushing the curls away from his face. "We will collapse the tunnels," Sairette said, "and you will leave. And we will never see each other again. This is known to you?"

Jon pulled the wildling closer and laid his head on her stomach, hugging her to him. He felt the warmth radiating from her on his cheek, even with the layer of fabric in between them. She continued stroking his hair, melting the fallen snowflakes on her fingertips.

"What if I did not go?" Jon asked. "What if I stayed here?"

The girl took him by the shoulders and pulled away. "Do not give me false hope."

o0oOo0oOo0o

"Send a raven," Mormont commanded. "Alert Lord Stark that Jon has gone missing."

"Are you sure that is wise?" Alliser Thorne asked. "The boy is leading an army. Why worry him of his brother's desertion?"

The Lord Commander looked up from his paper and sat his quill down on the desk. "You are convinced he has abandoned the Wall?"

"He was here one moment and the next, he was not. How else could it be justified?"

Mormont stood and walked around his desk. He added more logs to the fireplace while he spoke. "I have no doubt that he left on his own free will," the man said, "but I am not sure of his intentions of returning." He straightened his back with a muffled groan and a loud crack was heard from his bones. "Brother Benjen, Lord Eddard, and now Jon Snow. We are losing Starks much too quickly."

Thorne seemed none too hurt at this realization. "Desertion is desertion, whether or not he intended to come back."

"Tell me, Alliser, how many times have you snuck in and out of these gates?"

The master-at-arms was at a loss for words. As a younger man, he had frequented the whore house not too far from Castle Black. Now, he was not questioned when he left. There was no more need to sneak.

"We would all be put to death," Mormont continued. He grabbed the paper from his desk and folded it, then added his seal to the crease. He handed the letter to the other man. "Send a raven to Lord Stark," he said again. "And do it with haste."


End file.
